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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265738">Project 527: RWE</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsworkforthegovernment/pseuds/birdsworkforthegovernment'>birdsworkforthegovernment</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Comics), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Interspecies Relationship(s), Mikey is adorable, Ninja, OC is quirky, Protective brothers, Read at Your Own Risk, Redemption, Slow Burn, Violence, but i'm the biggest spoiler, grouchy raphael, i really don't want to give it away, im bad at tagging, leo is annoying, plz read i'll be your friend, sewer virgins, shy donnie, superpowers?, wholesome-ish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:20:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsworkforthegovernment/pseuds/birdsworkforthegovernment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Emerson was oblivious to the fact she had been living a lie her whole life. She never knew why it was that she felt so disconnected from her family. Now, four brothers must do everything in their power to make sure she stays safe, or else it could mean the end of the world. Watch what happens when a "normal" teenager and four turtles meet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Donatello/April O'Neil (TMNT), Raphael (TMNT)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pilot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! Thanks for popping in. If you're from FF.net, welcome back! If you're a new reader, welcome! If you end up liking this chapter, I have posted a bunch more over on my account on FF.net under the same user. I'll be trying to update on here regularly, but if you don't feel like waiting, feel free to check it out. I'll be trying to limit my notes on this story because I know no one reads them. Anyway, on to the story!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Emerson sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s car, casually watching the New York scenery pass her by. The route was familiar to her by now and she took pleasure in watching the signs and buildings she recognized flash her by. Her mother, on the other hand, only looked ahead of her. ‘Not like that’s unusual,’ she thought.</p>
<p>Emerson Adler had always felt like a stranger to her mother. Sure, she had known the woman for seventeen years, (which was the entirety of her life) but instances like this reminded her just how strained her relationship with her mother really was. Not that she didn’t try to work on it, they both did. However, trying was sometimes just as disappointing as leaving things be was.</p>
<p>“So, I..uh..got that prompt for my history class..” Emerson said, trying to ease some of the tension in the car.</p>
<p>“Oh?” Her mother said questionably. Emerson could tell she was not interested, but at least she had responded.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she continued, shifting away from the window and toward the middle of the car. “We have to argue whether women’s lives improved or not from the 1920s to the 1950s.” Her mother’s eyebrows lifted slightly, a sign she was at least a little interested now.</p>
<p>“You get to choose?”</p>
<p>“Yeah… Supposed to be a persuasive essay I guess,” Emerson shrugged.</p>
<p>“When’s it due?” She asked while turning the car. Emerson could tell that they were close to home.</p>
<p>“By the end of the month,” Emerson responded quickly.</p>
<p>“What’s it out of?” Her mother pulled to a parking structure by their apartment.</p>
<p>“A hundred points. Nothing too big, but..” Emerson shrugged, not really sure what to say.</p>
<p>“Better get it done then,” her mother fished, parking the car. Emerson only nodded her head, not really wanting the conversation to go anywhere further than it had already gone. She grabbed her bag from her seat and closed the car door, walking up the steps to her family’s apartment. She heard her mother behind her lock the car and follow her up the steps.</p>
<p>“Is Dad home?” Emerson asked without looking back.</p>
<p>“Yes,” her mother replied in a monotone voice. Internally, Emerson sighed with relief. Her mother and she could really only coexist if her father was there. He kept the two at bay, offered topics of conversation when awkward silence presented itself. He was really the glue that kept her small, broken family together. Knowing he was home waiting for them lifted a little bit of the car-ride anxiety from her shoulders.</p>
<p>She finally reached her family’s door, opening it and holding it for her mother. When she passed through, Emerson closed it again and walked to her right, entering the kitchen. Setting her stuff on the small kitchen table, she found her way to the fridge, grabbing a can of soda and cracking it open. Before she could even take a sip, something small and fuzzy touched her leg, almost making her jump. Looking down, she was relieved to see the familiar face.</p>
<p>“Bug, I almost had a heart attack,” she bent down to her furry friend, patting his head first before scooping up the small kitten. “Who would be here to sneak you table scraps if I died, huh?” She asked sarcastically. The black didn't respond, only pressing himself further into her arms for warmth. Emerson slightly chuckled, taking a sip of her drink and carrying Bug with her to her room. She placed him on top of her bed, making sure to place him on a spot where there were plenty of blankets for him to lay on. Bug stretched his body, releasing a silent yawn and made himself comfortable on Emerson’s bed. She shook her head at the cat’s behavior. <em>‘What I wouldn’t give to have your life, Bug.’</em></p>
<p>She went to her window, the one connected to a fire escape, and opened it slightly, hoping to get some airflow into her stuffy room. She looked out the window a bit, admiring her view. She really did love New York, arguably one of the most famous states in the country. She knew there were probably many beautiful places out there, but to her, none of them could compare to her own home state. She had always felt a weird sense of acceptance living in the land where dreams were made. There was always something to be done, always adventures to be had and journeys to take here. The thought of not living in New York almost terrified her. Behind her, she heard two swift knocks on her already opened the door, waking her up from her thoughts. She turned and saw her father, wearing his almost always present goofy grin.</p>
<p>“I was wondering where my Cuddle Bug went,” he said, making his way to the bed where the cat slept, “but now I see I’ve been betrayed,” he finished.</p>
<p>“I’ve tried telling you I’m his favorite,” Emerson said, watching her father pet the cat, making him purr softly.</p>
<p>“How was school?” he asked, changing the topic.</p>
<p>“Good,” she replied, putting her drink down on the desk next to the window. “Kevin finally gave us our essay prompts,” She said.</p>
<p>“So I heard,” he said. “I find it odd you call almost all of your teachers by their first names,” he narrowed his eyes with a hint of confusion, however, he didn't look at her.</p>
<p>“You find anything a person does odd,” Emerson pointed out, crossing her arms on her chest.</p>
<p>“Guess I choose the right profession then,” he said, finally looking at her to wink. She only responded by rolling her eyes, not trying to hide the smile inching its way to her face. Her father was a psychologist. When he was young, he went to a local community college with an undeclared major. It was there, he always told her, that he discovered his fascination with the human mind; how it works the way it does and such. Although he had told her that he used to do lab research and run his own experiments, he now mainly focused on child psychology and was the head psychologist on a school psychology team. She never knew why he stopped his experiments; the way he would talk about them, she could tell he really loved doing it. His eyes would light up, his face would wrinkle around his eyes and lips and he would smile big. Of course, she could tell he was happy with the job he had now, but she also knew it wasn’t the same for him.</p>
<p>“I was thinking of heading over to Lucy’s to brainstorm on the prompt. Would that be cool?” Emerson asked casually, trying to stop the overflowing thoughts in her brain.</p>
<p>“Totally radical, Em!” Her father said, imitating a stereotypical “surfer-dude” voice. She could tell he was trying to make her laugh, he was always doing that.</p>
<p>“How are we related?” Emerson asked bluntly, using all the force she had in her not to chuckle. Suddenly, a voice from across the apartment caught both of their attention.</p>
<p>“Ryan, your work phone is ringing!” her mother said in a tone Emerson swore was specifically reserved for mothers. Even though the voice wasn’t directed toward her, she could feel the six-years-old version of her coward inside of her.</p>
<p>“Well,” her father said, giving Bug one last stroke before getting up. “Duty calls.”</p>
<p>“Go save the children,” Emerson said enthusiastically, gesturing toward the door and bowing her head slightly. The two smiled at each other before her father walked out. Emerson found her drink on the desk again and brought it to her lips, chugging half of it. As she drank, she walked over toward her bed, then, when finished, she put the half-empty can down on her bedside table. Her blanket sat haphazardly on her bed since she saw no reason to make it in the morning; she was only going to get back in it, so why bother? She took off her sneakers, resting them next to the bed, and slipped into her unmade bed, burrowing herself into the comfort of her blankets and pillows.</p>
<p>“Whadda say, Bug? How ‘bout a quick cat nap?” Bug, having been disturbed from his resting place by Emerson’s feet, stretched his body before lazily, then walked enthusiastically up towards her arms. He quickly plopped himself down in the crevice between her arm and her side. “Who am I kidding? You’re a pro at naps,” Emerson said quietly chuckled. Taking her phone out of her pocket, she set a timer for one hour. Her phone was placed on the table beside her drink. She pet the top of Bug’s head, hearing and feeling his gentle purr. The soft mewls of Bug lolled her to a dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Below the city, Raphael sat in his bean bag chair placed in the middle of the lair, reading a comic book he had stolen from his brother, much to his demise. He hated being stuck in the sewers as much as any other person. Being caged down until sunset made him feel like a prisoner. But, he knew that the sun was still out, and would be for the next couple hours. There was really nothing he could do except pass the time until night fell. Once the sky grew dark, he would be free to roam the city streets again. He kept reminding himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Only a couple more  hours.’</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mikey!” He heard a familiar voice ring. “Stay out of my lab!” He watched the hallway where the booming voice came from, confused as to what was happening. Suddenly, an orange-clad turtle ran from the hallway that led to the lab and found refuge behind the beanbag chair Raphael was currently sitting in. He turned his head slightly to look at his brother, who was trying his hardest to make himself as small as possible behind Raphael. He then looked up and saw Donnie march his way out of the hallway, wearing goggles on his forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you to not mess with my stuff!” Donnie said, his words aimed at the turtle hiding behind Raphael. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well this is weird,” Raphael said to himself, amused at both of the brothers’ behaviors. “Usually I’m the one chewing Mikey out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like it better when you get mad,” Mikey said quietly so only Raphael could hear him. “When Donnie gets mad he starts using big words.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, are you scared of vocabulary now, Mikey?” Raphael teased.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Mikey said, feeling somewhat offended. Before anything else could be said, another voice made itself present in the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, everyone,” Leonardo said. Raphael figured he must have heard the yelling from where he was in the dojo. “Why don’t we all just calm down…” he suggested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not until Mikey agrees to stop touching stuff in my lab,” Donnie said, pointing at his younger brother. Mikey, who seemed to have gotten a boost of confidence, stood up from his crouched position, putting both hands on his hips defiantly.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For your information, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geek-brain</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I didn’t touch anything,” he said, almost offended. Donnie gave him a look, clearly not believing him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I touched one thing but that was it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn it, Mikey!” Donnie threw his hands up, reaching his limit with the younger turtle. “I’ve told you countless times not to step foot near that lab but you never listen,” he said, making his way closer to Mikey. “Not only do you blatantly ignore me, but you go so far as to possibly damage precious tools and equipment, the only ones I have! I don’t know how to get it through your thick skull to mind your own business!” He jammed his finger into the plastron of his younger brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leonardo quickly stepped between the two brothers, separating them. “Okay that’s enough,” he said authoritatively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Awe, Leo. It was just gettin’ good,” Raphael pouted, but unsurprisingly got no response from either three. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Donnie, go back to the lab and cool off,” Leonardo said, pointing at the hallway. Donnie opened his mouth, no doubt about to defend himself, but was cut off. “Now, Donnie,” Leo said in a much more loud, stern voice. Donnie then glared at Mikey one last time before walking away, muttering angrily to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You,” also said turning to Mikey looking a bit angrier. “Stay put. I don’t want you anywhere near Donnie or the lab, got it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No fair,” Mikey said crossing his arms, then finally walked toward an empty beanbag chair and plopping himself down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a weird day,” Raphael said, shaking his head. “First Mikey hides behind </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnie </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets sent to cool off. We must be in an alternate universe,” he joked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been good today, Raph,” Leo said. “Don’t do anything to ruin that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, there go my plans,” Raphael said calmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our only plans for today are to go out and bash some heads,” Leonardo said, walking a bit closer to Raphael. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What kind of heads are we talkin’ about?” Raphael asked somewhat excitedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Krang, Foot, Purple Dragons, whichever we see,” Leonardo said with a shrug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re tellin’ me our mission is to just go out and wing it?” Raphael asked, to which Leonardo only shrugged again. “Huh, no one immediately after us,” Raphael thought. “That’s a little… suspicious.” He finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” Leonardo said, before exiting to the room and entering the dojo. Raphael looked over at Mikey, who was still sitting in his beanbag, pouting. Although he would never admit it, Raphael liked Mikey’s endless enthusiasm; in his mind, it was a bit refreshing. To see Mikey hurt was a rarity, and none of the brothers liked to see Mikey anything other than happy. Watching him now, it was clear that Mikey was having one of his episodes, and Raphael was not about to let that happen. He got up from his own seat and walked over to Mikey, reaching his hand out to him. Mikey looked up from his lap and stared at Raphael's hand in confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, moron.” Raphael encouraged. “I’m sure there's one of those lame cartoons on that we could watch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mikey smiled at Raphael before taking his hand and lifting himself up. “They’re not lame. They’re just too complex for a simple turtle like you to understand,” Mikey said, placing a hand on his chest dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>“Uh-huh, sure. Keep walking, idiot,” Raphael said, pushing his brother forward toward the TV. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Only a few more hours,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Raphael thought. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Oh, Emerson! Where have you been? The whole family’s missed you,” the older woman in front of the girl said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, sorry to keep all of you waiting, Mrs. P,” Emerson shrugged, laughing a bit. “Is Lucy here?” The older woman opened the door a bit wider so Emerson could walk through. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, up in her room,” she said, putting a hand on her back to guide her to her daughter’s room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy’s mother had always been a kind, small lady. She was kind of the opposite of most of the people Emerson met in New York. She was warm, accepting, accommodating, all-around nice. If Emerson had a choice, she would have chosen Mrs. P as her mother. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door to Lucy’s room was open and Emerson saw Lucy sitting on the edge of her unmade bed, a laptop sitting on her legs while she typed away. Lucy’s room was slightly bigger than Emerson’s, filled to the brim with all different kinds of room decor. Lucy was the kind of person who didn’t buy furniture or decorations based on a theme; if she liked something or thought something was cute, she got it. This, of course, made Lucy’s room look more disorganized than it really was. It was the price Lucy paid. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucy,” her mother said sweetly. The short-haired brunette looked up from the screen and smile when she saw her friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy was a lot like her room, in a way. On the outside, you saw a girl who looked a bit strange, her hair never done, her outfit thrown on without a care, her face always looking tired. However, getting to know Lucy, you find out that she in fact did have her life together. She was a great student, her family was awesome, she had a job she was great at, and she always did her laundry. Emerson figured that that was probably why Lucy and her were friends; like the saying goes, opposites attract. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Em,” Lucy said, patting the open space next to her on the bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wassup?” Emerson said lazily, moving to the spot which Lucy offered to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll leave you girls to it,” Lucy’s mother smiled. “Just give us a holler if you need anything!” She quietly shut the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Mrs. P!” Emerson said loudly before the door was all the way shut. “Your mom is so cute,” She said to Lucy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you say that every time you come here,” Lucy laughed, her focused returning to the screen in front of her. Emerson looked over to see what exactly she was working on. She saw an almost blank document, the only words on it being the title. “Women’s Lives from 1920s to 1950s: Regress or Success?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That title sucks,” Emerson said bluntly. “And you’re actually working on that essay?” She asked in disbelief. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t suck, it rhymes,” Lucy said, keeping her eyes on the laptop. “And you were the one who said you wanted to work on the history essay,” she pointed out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it literally,” Emerson said, laying down on the bed and staring up at the textured ceiling. Since when did saying, “I’ll come over later to work on the essay” actually mean that you were going to work on an essay? Emerson didn’t understand the world. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what did you want to do?” Lucy asked, not too interested.   </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emerson thought for a minute. She really didn’t have a clue as to what to do. To be honest, she was never a big planner “Let’s get tattoos,” Emerson said casually after moments of thinking, still staring at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re seventeen,” Lucy stated, barely phased by Emerson’s suggestion.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I didn’t say they had to be legal,” Emerson said. She heard an exhausted sigh and laughed at bit; she really knew how to push her friend’s buttons. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m joking,” Emerson said, even though by now it was obvious. She sat up from her horizontal position and thought for a bit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just go explore,” she blurted out after a moment. It was Lucy’s turn to laugh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Again, we’re seventeen,” she said, shutting her laptop and putting it beside her on the bed. “Not five.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, doesn’t mean we can’t go explore the Concrete Jungle,” Emerson said, standing up and in front of Lucy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You may be the weirdest teenager I’ve ever met,” Lucy said, shaking her head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah ah ah, weirdest teenager you’ve met </span>
  <em>
    <span>so far</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Emerson corrected. Lucy sighed, again, and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look,” Emerson reasoned. “I know going out and walking around without a destination isn’t exactly the coolest thing we can do, but come on, Lucy,” Emerson pleaded. “I just need to get out. Please, for my sanity’s sake. I need to look around. I need some space, some fresh air, a little taste of freedom.” She looked at Lucy with begging eyes. “Please?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lucy stared at her, watching her like a hawk as if deciding whether or not Emerson was telling the truth. After what felt like ages, Lucy rolled her eyes before collecting her phone off a table next to her bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, can we go now?” Lucy asked, relenting into Emerson’s wishes. Emerson internally cheered, reminding herself to thank Lucy when she could. However, she was distracted when she saw Lucy make her way to the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, shouldn’t we tell your mom?” Emerson questioned watching Lucy open her door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah,” Lucy said quietly. She turned her head toward the hallway and continued walking. “Mom, me and Em are going out,” she yelled quite loudly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘How can such a tiny person make such a loud sound,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Emerson wondered as she followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, be safe!” Emerson faintly hear Lucy’s mother reply back. The two girls walked down the hall toward the front door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re always safe,” Emerson said, only loud enough so Lucy could hear. Lucy had been opening the door, but when she heard Emerson, she turned around and gave her a look, silently asking her, “Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, fine. One of us is always safe,” Emerson said, defeated. Lucy silently laughed before walking out of the door. Emerson followed her and closed the door behind her. They walked together until they found their way out of the apartment complex. There, Emerson gave Lucy a smirk. Before Lucy could question the look. Emerson broke into a sprint, running farther and farther away from her friend.   </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Emerson, wait!” Lucy yelled, but Emerson could barely hear her. All she knew was that New York nightlife was full of endless adventures, and she would have been insane to deny herself a piece of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, Emerson! Where have you been? The whole family’s missed you,” the older woman in front of the girl said.</p><p>“Sorry to keep all of you waiting, Mrs. P,” Emerson shrugged, laughing a bit. “Is Lucy here?” The older woman opened the door a bit wider so Emerson could walk through.</p><p>“Of course, up in her room,” she said, putting a hand on her back to guide her to her daughter’s room.</p><p>Lucy’s mother had always been a kind, small lady. She was kind of the opposite of most of the people Emerson met in New York. She was warm, accepting, accommodating, and an all-around nice person. If Emerson had a choice, she would have chosen Mrs. P as her mother.</p><p>The door to Lucy’s room was open and Emerson saw Lucy sitting on the edge of her unmade bed, a laptop sitting on her legs while she typed away. Lucy’s room was slightly bigger than Emerson’s, filled to the brim with all different kinds of room decor. Lucy was the kind of person who didn’t buy furniture or decorations based on a theme; if she liked something or thought something was cute, she got it. This, of course, made Lucy’s room look more disorganized than it really was. It was the price Lucy paid.</p><p>“Lucy,” her mother said sweetly. The short-haired brunette looked up from the screen and smiled when she saw her friend.</p><p>Lucy was a lot like her room, in a way. On the outside, you saw a girl who looked a bit strange, her hair never done, her outfit thrown on without a care, her face always looking tired. However, getting to know Lucy, you find out that she in fact did have her life together. She was a great student, her family was awesome, she had a job she was great at, and she always did her laundry. Emerson figured that that was probably why Lucy and she were friends; like the saying goes, opposites attract.</p><p>“Hey, Em,” Lucy said, patting the open space next to her on the bed.</p><p>“Wassup?” Emerson said lazily, moving to the spot which Lucy offered to her.</p><p>“Well, I’ll leave you girls to it,” Lucy’s mother smiled. “Just give us a holler if you need anything!” She quietly shut the door.</p><p>“Thanks, Mrs. P!” Emerson said loudly before the door was all the way shut. “Your mom is so cute,” She said to Lucy.</p><p>“I think you say that every time you come here,” Lucy laughed, her focused returning to the screen in front of her. Emerson looked over to see what exactly she was working on. She saw an almost blank document, the only words on it being the title. “Women’s Lives from the 1920s to 1950s: Regress or Success?”</p><p>“That title sucks,” Emerson said bluntly. “And you’re actually working on that essay?” She asked in disbelief.</p><p>“It doesn’t suck, it rhymes,” Lucy said, keeping her eyes on the laptop. “And you were the one who said you wanted to work on the history essay,” she pointed out.</p><p>“I didn’t mean it literally,” Emerson said, laying down on the bed and staring up at the textured ceiling. Since when did saying, “I’ll come over later to work on the essay” actually mean that you were going to work on an essay? Emerson didn’t understand the world.</p><p>“Then what did you want to do?” Lucy asked, not too interested.</p><p>Emerson thought for a minute. She really didn’t have a clue as to what to do. To be honest, she was never a big planner “Let’s get tattoos,” Emerson said casually after moments of thinking, still staring at the ceiling.</p><p>“We’re seventeen,” Lucy stated, barely phased by Emerson’s suggestion.</p><p>“Well I didn’t say they had to be legal,” Emerson said. She heard an exhausted sigh and laughed a bit; she really knew how to push her friend’s buttons.</p><p>“I’m joking,” Emerson said, even though by now it was obvious. She sat up from her position and thought for a bit.</p><p>“Let’s just go explore,” she blurted out after a moment. It was Lucy’s turn to laugh.</p><p>“Again, we’re seventeen,” she said, shutting her laptop and putting it beside her on the bed. “Not five.”</p><p>“So, doesn’t mean we can’t go explore the Concrete Jungle,” Emerson said, standing up and in front of Lucy.</p><p>“You may be the weirdest teenager I’ve ever met,” Lucy said, shaking her head.</p><p>“Ah ah ah, weirdest teenager you’ve met <em>so far</em>,” Emerson corrected. Lucy sighed, again, and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off.</p><p>“Look,” Emerson reasoned. “I know going out and walking around without a destination isn’t exactly the coolest thing we can do, but come on, Lucy,” Emerson pleaded. “I just need to get out. Please, for my sanity’s sake. I need to look around. I need some space, some fresh air, a little taste of freedom.” She looked at Lucy with begging eyes. “Please?”</p><p>Lucy stared at her, watching her like a hawk as if deciding whether or not Emerson was telling the truth. After what felt like ages, Lucy rolled her eyes before collecting her phone off a table next to her bed.</p><p>“Fine, can we go now?” Lucy asked, relenting into Emerson’s wishes. Emerson internally cheered, reminding herself to thank Lucy when she could. However, she was distracted when she saw Lucy make her way to the door.</p><p>“Uh, shouldn’t we tell your mom?” Emerson questioned watching Lucy open her door.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Lucy said quietly. She turned her head toward the hallway and continued walking. “Mom, me and Em are going out,” she yelled quite loudly. <em>‘How can such a tiny person make such a loud sound,’ </em>Emerson wondered as she followed.</p><p>“Okay, be safe!” Emerson faintly heard Lucy’s mother reply back. The two girls walked down the hall toward the front door.</p><p>“We’re always safe,” Emerson said, only loud enough so Lucy could hear. Lucy had been opening the door, but when she heard Emerson, she turned around and gave her a look, silently asking her, “Really?”</p><p>“Okay, fine. One of us is always safe,” Emerson said, defeated. Lucy silently laughed before walking out of the door. Emerson followed her and closed the door behind her. They walked together until they found their way out of the apartment complex. There, Emerson gave Lucy a smirk. Before Lucy could question the look, Emerson broke into a sprint, running farther and farther away from her friend.</p><p>“Emerson, wait!” Lucy yelled, but Emerson could barely hear her. All she knew was that New York nightlife was full of endless adventures, and she would have been insane to deny herself a piece of it. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Four brothers sat on top of a building, each in their own world. They had been on patrol for hours now, and despite how nice it felt to get out of the lair, they all could agree that sitting around doing nothing like they were now wasn’t any better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raphael sat toward the center of the rooftop, arms crossed and deeply focused. He always prided himself at being the best fighter in the group, Leo of course being a close second. However, there were some aspects of being a ninja that even he could admit he needed work on. One of those aspects being meditating.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy meditating, it was the fact that, at least for him, it was extremely hard to get “in the zone”, to breath deeply as he cleared his mind. His mind was always swimming with thoughts. Sensei always reminded him to practice, to make time for the things he needed improvement on. So, in times like these where there was nothing else to do, Raphael practiced his meditation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘In….out…’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>he repeated to himself. The breathing part was easier. The hardest part was clearing his mind, to allow himself to think of nothing at all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Relax… in…. out… empty my mind,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to what felt like a warm breath of air on the back of his neck. Tempted to turn back, he reminded himself of his task. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Clear mind, Raphael. Don’t let the outside world distract you,’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, trying to block out as much as he could. All he could see was darkness; the inky black mass that his eyes used to shield out the rest of the world. He focused on how light he felt, how not focusing on anything, in particular, made him feel like a literal weight had been lifted off of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt peace, which was a rarity for him. He was cautious, always worried, always angry. He didn’t have time to slow down and appreciate what it felt like to be relaxed. He tried to get his fill because he knew that this moment of utter bliss wouldn’t last. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His moment of peaceful tranquility was interrupted faster than he thought, however, when he felt a strong poke on the back of his neck. Without thinking, his arm shot up in reflex to grab at the intruder. He opened his eyes and used his abundance of strength the pull the hand from behind him over his head and forward. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mikey hit the roof hard in his back, letting out a not so silent “oomph” as he landed. Raphael watched Mikey intensely as he pulled his arm from Raphael’s grasp and struggled to get up.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What's your problem, bro?” Mikey asked loudly, finally managing to stand up after catching his breath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My problem is you,” Raphael said, pointing at his little brother. “I can’t sit for five minutes without you tryin’ to set me off,” he said, trying to keep his volume low. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault,” Mikey whined. “I’m bored up here,” he said, kicking an imaginary rock from the roof. Raphael silently growled, knowing well Mikey somewhat had a point. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He walked over to the other side of the roof where Leo had been crouched for the past hour. Raphael rolled his eyes at the back of his brother’s head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, fearless,” he said, crossing his arms. “We’ve been out here almost all night and nothin’s happenin’. It’s time to go,” he said, noticing no indication from his brother that he was even listening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I agree,” Raphael turned toward Donnie, who was laying some of his weight of his staff, looking exhausted. “It’s a slow day, I’m sure the police can handle everything,” Donnie suggested. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d rather have somebody else come in and do your job?” Leo suddenly asked, not looking back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, technically it’s their job anyways...” Donnie corrected, fading off at the end.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Leo,” Mikey popped in. “Its sooo boring up here,” he whined. “Let’s just go back home.” </span>
  <span>Leo quickly stood up from his crouching positions, standing straight to face all of his brothers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, if you guys want to go home then fine, be my guests.” He pointed to himself, “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> staying here and finishing the patrol like we are </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to do,” he said before giving each of them a disappointed look. Donnie and Mikey looked down at the rooftop guilty, knowing fully well that their brother was right and feeling a bit ashamed for trying to get out of their responsibilities. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raphael instead glared back at his leader. Sure, he knew Leo had a point, but so did Raphael and the rest. And he didn’t deserve to be scolded like a child for having a different opinion than his brother. He wanted to bring it up, wanted to point out how unfair he was being, but he knew better than to stir the pot. As good as he was at getting into fights, it didn’t mean he enjoyed being the hothead of the group. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The four brothers returned back to their positions, all except for Raphael, who leaned back against a giant satellite dish. He was getting exhausted; between the hours and hours of sitting and waiting and the festering anger boiling in him, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he blew up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They all went back to their previous activities, Mikey looking around for something to entertain him, Donnie leaning against his staff trying not to fall asleep, and Leo watching the streets below him. Raphael almost scoffed at Leonardo, not in the mood to be around his brother at the moment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys,” Mikey suddenly called out. “I have a joke for you.” The three brothers looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Mikey peered over the building and smirked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do three Purple Dragons and a guy with a sweater vest have in common?” He asked smugly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know Mikey, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>they have in common?,” Raphael said with fake enthusiasm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, why don’t you come tell me,” he said, gesturing them over to where he was at the edge of the roof. The three quickly obeyed and looked over the edge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, they saw three tall Purple Dragons, each holding a small pocket knife. One of them, whom Raphael knew was their leader, was pressing his knife against the throat of a younger-looking man, who, as Mikey pointed out, was indeed wearing a sweater vest. He looked terrified, but Raphael could also see the hints of anger and hatred he had as he spat out replies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally,” Raphael said. “It’s ass-whooping time,” he said happily, cracking his knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now wait a minute, Raphael,” Leo spoke softly. “We don’t know the whole situation-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh hell no, Fearless,” Raphael interrupted. “We’ve been out here for hours already and this may be the only action we get all night. There’s no way you are makin’ me wait any longer than I need to,” Raphael said sternly. The two brothers stared at each other, Leo glaring while sorting out his thoughts, and Raphael to try emphasize that he wasn’t budging. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a couple moments, Leo sighed and looked down at the four men. Things had escalated quickly, as Leo saw from all the way up on the rooftop blood staining the man’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, fine,” Leo relented, ignoring the silent cheers from his brothers. </span>
</p>
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